


In the Dead Wastes of the Middle of the Night.

by sabinelagrande



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Insomnia, Loss, Post-Serenity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-12
Updated: 2006-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoe waits for the night to pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dead Wastes of the Middle of the Night.

Zoe is sitting in the pilot's chair in Serenity's bridge, knees drawn up to her chest, clutching a blanket around her, just like she does every night. She's got no call to be up there- she can't fly- but she can't leave. River understands, and, for the most part, she stays away. It scares her, somewhere in her brain, to see Zoe like that, all undone, just like she must have been when she was undone.

Wash never kept to night watches after his first few weeks on the ship, because he trusted Serenity absolutely. He knew that she didn't need him there. It isn't that she doesn't trust Serenity. It's in the way she trusted Serenity- always through Wash. The ship was just worthless go se until he came; no, it was worthless until she loved him.

Mal or Kaylee might love it for itself, but she can't. Her love for the ship was a part of her love for Wash. She doesn't know how to love it without him, and she just can't trust where she doesn't love. Mal would call it a strength, but now it seems like a weakness.

So Zoe sits, and she waits, and she watches. She doesn't know what she's waiting for. If something went wrong, she couldn't do anything to stop it. She never learned to pilot anything bigger than a mule. She always wanted Wash to teach her, but there wasn't ever any time. Sometimes, it seems like there was time enough for everything, but mostly she feels like there was no time at all, like it was just a flutter, the fall of a leaf, over quicker than it started.

When morning, or what passes for morning, comes, she'll feel herself again. Shaken up, torn, damaged, broken, but remade and strong. But now, she's just a shadow of a thing, a ghost. She hugs Wash's stegosaurus to her chest and prays that the night will go faster.


End file.
